


Of Moles an Traitors

by EmilyTT



Series: Deception [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Blood, Dick Grayson is Robin, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pain, Post-Betrayal, So Wrong It's Right, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyTT/pseuds/EmilyTT
Summary: The funny thing about deception is that there's usually some form of hint.





	Of Moles an Traitors

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own these characters

Robin limps slowly through the debris of what used to be Mount Justice, located in Happy Harbor, the home base of the Justice League’s covert operatives team, Young Justice. He gazes around as he stumbles down the pathway. A wave of pain shoots through his entire left arm, and he clutches it to his side with his spare.

A fallen over computer and sparks flying from excess wiring strewn across the floor indicate to him that he has arrived at the Missions Room. Batman’s voice instructing them to be on a _covert_ , _recon_ mission _only_ flashes through his mind. Various pranks he had pulled on Wally follows next, and a hard lump goes down his throat when he swallows.

The room so famous for being where Team and League conversed, where pranks on the Watchtower were held, did not remain living to its pure glory, much like nearly the entirety of the base. A large portion of a wall is missing, and the clear blue sky threatened to blind the bird as the sun’s deadly glare reflected off of shattered glass. On the other side of the room, another chunk of wall is missing to reveal the kitchen, the room where M’gann spent much of her free time.

As he makes his way to the next hallway, his memory flashes to how everything was before hell had arrived. Decorations once decorating the wall of this hallway are completely missing or laying torn up on the floor.

Robin’s foot lands in a puddle of blood and it takes all of his attention to not slip and fall. Out of the corner of his eye, a glint of something at the far side of the hallway catches his focus. Stumbling and nearly losing his balance when he encounters another puddle, he can make out the tip of an arrow.

Upon reaching it, a small smile of reminiscence begins to tug at his lips before he shuts it down. He instead scowls, tugs a bag off his back, and lets out a sigh of relief when his arm doesn’t flare again. He places the item inside. Vaguely, he wonders when this particular arrow was shot, and arrives at the conclusion that it was when the attacker had slipped around the corner. She had obviously missed. But now the arrow would serve as his way of remembering her… remembering _this_ … it will his own little souvenir.

Robin soon returns to a standing position and continues to his next destination: M’gann’s room. He soon finds the location to where her door once stood and carefully steps in, nearly gagging at the smell of burnt flesh. Staring at his surroundings with wide eyes, he never would have imagined this desolate, bleak room to have once been the most decorated and colorful room in the entire mountain. And to think this room belonged to sweet, trusting M’gann, the happy, optimistic, enthusiastic Martian.

Scorch marks cover the entirety of the room, and burnt papers litter the floor to the point that black is all that can be seen against the once colorful carpet. A dresser that once laid claim next to the door lays on its back on the far side of the room in two pieces.

Her fight had perhaps been the quickest, for a lack of trying to fight back made her an all-too-easy victim. M’gann’s only form of defense had been her furniture, but even that had been used against her. A charred piece of a cookie recipe appears to be the only thing left in somewhat recognizable condition, and so Robin folds it up and places it into a pocket on hi utility belt.

The Atlantean’s room isn’t far from M’gann’s and so that is his next destination. His room is in much the same condition as the former’s, though without the incessant reek of burnt skin. A cabinet installed by both Robin and Aqualad months ago with the purpose of designing plans, strategies, and team-building strategies in completely empty and devoid of proof of plans produced by a leader. Camera recording proved his fight to be the longest, for the Atlantean was just as tough as his skin, refusing to stay down until he could no longer rise; however, Robin knows without a doubt that the longest has yet to arrive. It’s only a matter of time.

With nothing left to salvage, Robin reluctantly leaves with some sense of grief striking his heart.

Artemis’ broken bow is found just around the corner from Kaldur’s room, but Robin leaves it alone, already having taken his souvenir from her.

Wally’s room, the only room in the mountain left untouched, is filled with things a typical teenaged male would have in his room: video games, a gaming console, countless bags of chips and bottles of soda, and pictures of attractive females. Robin’s eyes sting and he clenches his eyes shut for a few moments, pushing away the pull against his heart strings. He quickly snags a photo on the speedster’s nightstand of the two of them taken in civvies. It’s placed in a special, hidden pocket within his bag.

A green, blood speckled piece of kryptonite is the first thing Robin encounters upon reaching the garage. Dents in the wall cover the entire room and a vent cover from high up in the ceiling lays ten feet from the wall where it belonged. The largest dent in the room also contains a massive pool of crimson surrounding it.

Conner had, for obvious reasons, been the first target. A blood splattered clump of fur remains stuck to the devastated destruction of Sphere. With Conner dealing with the effects of kryptonite and briefly out of the way before trying to fight back, a specialized, poisoned dart had been more than enough to remove Wolf from the picture.

Taking out a lead container from his bag, Robin places the sharpened weapon in the gun and ensures the safety is off before putting it away. Robin didn’t particularly enjoy squirming his way through that cramped vent to ambush his ex-kryptonian friend, but Wolf would have spotted him otherwise and perhaps then Conner would have avoided the single bullet he’d been given.

The biggest dent in the wall had been his proudest moment, using his full force and strength to crack Conner’s skull open was his greatest moment in all of his fights against his former team.

The nearly silent swish of a cape distracts him from his thought and sends joy rippling through his spine. A smirk once more tugs at his lips, and this time he allows it, the dried blood of his former friends cracking and crumbling away from his face as he does so.

He clenches and unclenches his healed arm and shifts most of his weight to his healed leg. But this time, he refuses to be the first one to speak. To be the one answering unasked questions. He wants the man to actually _ask_ for once.

He knows that Batman isn’t stupid. He knows Batman knows he knows that Batman is there. He won’t attack before he has answers. Before he has to interr-

“Why.”

 _Of course_. Never truly asking. Always demanding.

Fine. He’ll play Batman’s game.

“Thought I’d stop pretending you gave a damn about me.”

Silence. And then- “How long.”

He crouches down and picks at the tattered remains of Superboy’s shirt. The ‘S’ is torn in half. “Longer than you’d care to know. More than long enough to destroy your title of being the World’s Greatest Detective.”

Batman takes a step forward. “When did you take Deathstroke’s serum?”

And he asks it so genuinely, so Bruce Wayne-like so dad-like that- _Stop it. He didn’t believe in you. He played you from the start._

“Yesterday” he answers truthfully, because dammit if Batman lets Bruce come out to play he at least needs to play unfairly as well.

Another step is taken. “You deserved more, Robin-“

“ _That is not my name!_ ” he snarls, tearing the already tattered shirt in half once more. “You’re wrong about him, _Batman_. He’s the one in the right, not you!”

He hears Batman’s knuckles crack. He’s treading deadly waters. “You know what happens next.”

Standing up and finally facing the man he once considered a father, Dick smirks once more, making sure the man sees the Team’s dried blood cake away from his cheeks. ”You can try.”

The white lenses of Batman’s mask narrow dangerously. “You’re surrounded, nowhere to run.” Specially designed cuffs that bind arms together from wrist to elbow activate from behind the man’s cape. Dick knows because he used the same cuffs to finally put Kaldur down for good. After all, he had stolen them from the Batcave after helping construct them.

“Why did you come back?” Batman finally asks.

He’s been waiting for this question to be asked for hours, ever since he was ordered to eliminate all evidence of his presence, after being ordered to blow up his own room. “I had a few things to pick up,” he replies simply.

A button finds its way into his hand and he pushes it. The boom from his room rocks the entire mountain.

Bruce holds eye contact with him the entire time. The cuffs produce themselves from behind his cape. He holds them up. “Will you come without trying to escape?”

Dick can tell he’s torn. That he almost broke out of that damn shell of his that hides away any emotions outside of anger and disappointment.

Strength ripples through his body and he shifts his weight into an offensive stance, two knives slipping out of his uniform and resting easily in his hands. He smiles like a madman. “We both know the answer to that, don’t we?”

He pounces into the air, twisting before his second foot leaves orbit and ripping the ‘S’ insignia off of his new uniform, hurling the poisonous weapon at his mentor with deadly precision.


End file.
